


Don't you Worry

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: NaNoWriMo, OC insert, Original Character(s), help me, i dont know what im doing on this site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: All heroes fall.Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints.It takes, and it takes, and it takes, and yet we keep living anyway.We rise, and we fall, and we break, and we make our mistakes, but some things just never change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Join me (or not) as I struggle through Nanowrimo after having not written smack shit for the past few months. Forgive me in advance for how choppy and cringy it's gonna be, cause guess who's not editing it!!
> 
> Also this is centered around an Overwatch OC, which undoubtedly turns most of you off. Maybe I could persuade you by saying that she isn't overly overpowered and generic even-though-she's-a-she-and-is-kinda-overpowered heh..? alrighty that probably didn't help cya my dude
> 
> This is also my first time posting here on this site and let me just say the sheer amount of talented authors here scare me so pls have mercy on me

He had broken down thousands, destroyed lives without a second's thought, done deeds not meant for humans to do, and yet here he was. Even the wind was mocking him now, slowed down to a tranquil breeze, as if to reassure him that he would be okay. That he would be perfectly fine when confined in the cages of hell, because that's where he knew he was going. Too much blood had been on his hands, too many souls taken for naught, and one too many times had he spit in Death’s face. Not quite as literally as now, though.  


He lay knelt on the ground, breathing ragged and cracked like the earth that would soon become his deathbed, cuts and gashes littering his battered body. He moved not a muscle, chest rising and falling ever so slightly as he breathed. His legs felt sore, arms numb, head was pounding in a way that would make most insane, and yet he lay perfectly still, icy cold eyes as chilling as the winter around him and staring straight up into his enemy. Defiant, glaring, he did not care for the scent of his own blood that filled his system with a tasteful tang, barely noticed that his entire body was aching in a throbbing pain, because he would not succumb to death just yet. He would stare death in the eyes, just as he was now, and would pass to the under realm with not a sound, for he didn't want Death to even have the satisfaction of hearing him die.  


He nearly chuckled when he remembered Cynder's words, a slight smile cracking upon his dry lips when the quiet girl's voice resounded in his head. A serious meeting, a few old friends, and yet she still had to insult him. Or was it an insult? He wasn't ever sure what that girl was thinking. But he remembered all she said, everything she had ever mumbled, and that made him smile. The corners of his lips curved upward even as he stared at his killer-to-be in the face, her voice echoing lightly at the back of his head, faint and quiet but ever so wise.  


_"One day you'll die, and even when Death is at your door, you would still laugh. Perhaps that is a good thing. Your stubbornness will always be both your best and worst trait."_  


Staring up into the black mass that was his enemy, he sighed, bones slowly turning to ice. He almost wished he would die faster, the leafless branches rustling behind him seemingly laughing at the pathetic mess he had become.  


Slowly, his killer raised his weapon, pointing the barrel of the gun at his face. He stared down the endless void of black, expression never changing from it’s icy glare, not even the glinting of several bullets within the weapon could make his hardened gaze surrender.  


Neither said anything, but a smile still donned his blood-splattered face. He grinned wickedly when a surge of energy rushed over him as soon as the man fired his weapon, the ache of his bones and the throbbing agony of his body oddly gone as he leaped up, revived with power as he lunged at the man.  


With a withering scream, the man shrieked as blade dug into flesh, the pool of blood that had settled at their feet growing as a strange purple liquid flooded in. The man was screaming still, thrashing about and trying to grab the younger in vain, and in the next moment, the screeches had subsided abrubtly, the man gone without another trace.  


He blinked his tired eyes, no longer encased in chilling ice but instead glossed over with a thin sheen of joy as the winds howled around him. It was almost as if mother nature was disappointed he hadn’t perished, and in a way, he was too. Perhaps he should’ve died, for there was nothing other for him to do on earth other than increase the severity of his sins even further.  


A panicked whisper, light and faint but ever so familiar echoed in the back of his head, and he was glad he’d survived all of a sudden.  


_‘Please be okay,’_ the voice was shaky, the woman who had spoken obviously shaken by the events that had happened.  


_‘Not again, not again, not again-’_ He cracked a small smile at the concern that laced the voice, allowing for a breath of ragged air to escape into winter’s hold. He watched, eyes half-lidded with fatigue, as the puff of hot air billowed out into the skies, swallowed up by the piercing winds and dissipating in a single gust.  


_‘You’re okay, Tygris, you’re okay, I know you are, I can see you so please don’t-’_ He laughed as he felt himself sway, chuckled carelessly into the night as he allowed for himself to fall. For he knew that he would not splash into the blood below, and he was certain that those comforting arms would wrap around him and offer him warmth like no other.  


They did. One moment he was falling, and the next warm arms had saved him from his demise, wrapping around his frozen body in a reassuring hug. He finally closed his eyes, smile growing when he heard her finish her sentence in a sigh of relief.  


“..fall again. Seriously, I cannot catch you every single time. Blood is a pain to wash off, and you best not bother Aria again just because you wanted a ‘dramatic flair’. Young’uns these days, I swear..”  


He breathed out a laugh, cracking open his eyes for a split second to stare into a familiar mask. There she was again, nagging at him as if he were a child. Cynder never did stop caring, did she?  


“Come on,” She whispered, and Tygris didn’t have to open his eyes once more to feel the kind smile that had spread over her face. He could feel himself drifting away in her arms, head lolling into the nook of Cynder’s arm as she lifted him off the ground with ease.  


“Let me take you back to Nyka. I can only heal you so much.” When she looked down, Tygris was already long gone and snoring loudly, mouth parted slightly as he was swept away by a peaceful slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really isn't much to do with OW until a bit later on.

“We have a what?” Cynder asked, eyes wide behind her mask with disbelief. She shook her head, sighing when Nyka repeated her words once more. 

“We have another mission,” the young nurse said, scurrying to one side of the room and back as she grabbed a few medicine bottles. Cynder waited patiently for an explanation, drumming her fingers lightly against wood, but Nyka seemed to only concentrate on one thing at a time. She lay a warm, wet towel on Tygris’s forehead, both women watching with silent amusement as the man snored in his sleep. Nyka then went back to the table she was at, sitting herself down and holding each bottle to the sun, trying to read what the bottles had written on them. 

“Ah, fatigue..” She mumbled to herself, quickly standing up and screeching the wooden chair back as she scurried back to the counter, mixing different liquids with a pill she had retrieved from one of the bottles. 

Cynder watched with both bore and enjoyment, noting just how concentrated Nyka was as she measured out each ingredient carefully. Her eyes wandered around the small room, landing upon Nyka and then Tygris and then a black case that held stacks and stacks of money, and finally their weapons, thrown onto the table carelessly. Three guns and four blades, and no one would ever assume that all seven had racked up more lives than all of this city. 

She sighed, regretting being in such a position for only a moment before she pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She’d made her decision years ago, and all the bonds she had forged here was too precious to throw away. Cynder knew that her organization wasn’t the best out there, and were in fact quite corrupt, but she wasn’t in any place to argue after what had happened all those years ago. 

The room they were resting in currently had been rented in secret by her organization and barely large enough to fit all three of them, and the only weak reasoning they had received was that ‘they couldn’t afford a better room’ when all three of the trio knew for a fact that Boss could buy entire countries with the amount of money he had. None were in a position to argue, but they definitely could complain to eachother about the cheap room they had been given. The entire room seemed to be coated in dust, as noticed and whined about from Nyka earlier on, but Cynder didn’t quite care as much, leaned against a wardrobe of sorts as she watched, thinking of all that had happened since her glorious younger days. 

The honking of irritated drivers outside their apartment window broke her train of thought and seemed to increase now that it had reached noon, and though Cynder wanted to rip whatever was left of her ears out, the snoring from Tygris and his gaping mouth dictated that he couldn’t care less. How someone was able to sleep through all the racket was a mystery to her, but she’d known Tygris enough to stop caring for such trivial things. 

Nyka leaned over Tygris, tapping him twice to wake him from his slumber as she pressed a glass to his lips. He barely had time to sit up before the cold liquid slid down his throat, soothing his entire body from inside-out in a cold blaze. Tygris finished the medicine with a disgruntled yawn, smacking his lips as he looked around the room. 

“Shit place you guys got. Y’all couldn’t’ve at least gotten some place with a bathroom? Sheesh, this place must’ve cost a blowjob and dime-” 

“Five dollars, Ty. You know boss can’t let us have luxuries.” Cynder replied, readjusting her body so she was leaning steadily on her right arm. 

“You know that that’s-” Tygris hiccupped suddenly, body jerking forward in surprise. “-that’s some bullsh-” He hiccupped once more, brows furrowing as he pouted at Cynder. 

“Shaddup, Cyn, I can feel your dumbass smile even through your mask.” 

No longer able to hide the huge grin that had spread across her face, Cynder laughed heartily, Tygris joining in with more hiccups and even Nyka had begun to giggle. 

“Don’t call me Cyn,” Cynder said through a breathy chuckle, “I’m too old for that.” 

Tygris snorted, handing Nyka his empty cup before speaking. “You’re like, 30. It’s never too late for nicknames anyway.” 

“You know I’m older than that.” 

“Yeah, but ya look 30! Whaddya wash your face with, unicorn blood? Damn, that’s pretty hardcore.” 

Cynder sighed, straying her eyes away from Tygris, whom had been waving his arms around wildly in hand gestures. Even after knowing the man for so many years, she still wasn’t quite sure of his true, inner personality. She felt as if he was faking it all, for such a ruthless and merciless killer could not ever act the way he did. 

“But what about dragon scales? Wait, fuck, that’d just cut you up, huh..” 

And yet here he was, Tygris Dusc, barely 31 and already the most wanted criminal of the age.. talking about mythical creatures that did not exist and making facial cream out of them. Cynder sighed once more, truly feeling as if she were old. Perhaps Tygris had a point, and that she should retire soon. The thought nearly made her laugh- She wasn’t going to be allowed a rest. The only rest she was getting was going to be death, and it wasn’t as if she despised the idea of- 

“Cynder,” Nyka’s crisp voice cut off her thoughts as a glass appeared in front of her face, “You should drink this too. You’ve been awake for too many days, and even the nanovirus is not invincible to fatigue.” 

Cynder shook her head, pushing the glass away from herself politely. “No, it’s alright. You have been awake for just as much time as I, and you are more essential to this team than I am. You should drink it yourself.” 

Placing a hand on her hip and shoving the murky white liquid closer to her, Cynder wondered how a lady in her early 20’s could nag someone like her, an old woman carrying the age of 52. 

“I have been awake for a measly twenty hours, and have had a good night’s sleep. You, on the other hand, have been awake for nearly four days straight looking for this buffoon. Drink.” 

A smile had appeared on Cynder’s face at Nyka’s kindness and at Tygris’s whine in the background as she accepted the glass with a slight bow. Spreading the palm of her hand over the blank mask, Cynder shook it free and set it atop the wardrobe as she brought the glass to her cracked lips. The medicine cooled her body almost instantly, sending soothing shivers down her spine as she tipped the last of the water into her mouth. 

A drop of the liquid managed to make it’s way to the corner of her lip, but it sizzled there for a second before evaporating into the air. Cynder could feel both Nyka and Tygris’s intense gaze on her face, uncomfortable at the sudden attention, even if it was from her close friends. She took her mask, swiping her fingers over the slits for vision and wiping a thumb over the three holes on each side of the metal. Purified white in color, Cynder stared at the mouthless mask before setting it upon her face one more, shaking it slightly to shift it in place. 

“You gotta tell us how you got those sometime.” Tygris’s voice was no longer obnoxious and loud, instead filled with wonder and anticipation. Cynder had put off that information for years on end, and it was only natural that the two were curious. 

“I thought I had already told you two? Perhaps it was only Nyka, I apologize, Ty,” Cynder chuckled quietly when Tygris pouted before telling him exactly what she had told Nyka. “I got caught in the middle of an explosion. Don’t know where it came from or who did it, but I lost an important friend that day. Perhaps it should have been I who should have died instead of him. Boss found me and revived me at the cost of my loyalty, and so here I am.” 

“You didn’t explain why half your face is all purple-y and black-ish, though,” Tygris asked, left with many more unanswered questioned. 

“The explosion. It took away half my face and more on the rest of my body. That,” she declared, raising a hand when she saw Tygris open his mouth to ask another question, “Is all I am going to say. You two have gotten your answers and I will not share more. Nyka, you mentioned we had another mission?” 

“Oh, yes,” Nyka jumped at the sudden hardness of Cynder’s voice, and not even Tygris challenged her this time. Her tone had an air of finality to it, as if it held large sentimental value to her. 

“Boss told us to go and disturb a gang in Dorado, seeing as how we’re so close to it already. He said that they were planning on transporting a mass of dangerous weapons, and that we should eliminate them if possible, though simply halting their actions is also acceptable.” 

“He should just tell us to kill ‘em all. No point in telling us to “halt their actions” if he really just wants them all dead.” Tygris slid his legs out under the blanket, hissing when his feet touched the cold floor. 

“Well, you know how Boss is. Come on, get your things together and we’re leaving this shitty place.” It was rare that Cynder swore, but the way she had mumbled it as she stalked over to pick up her rifle caused Nyka to giggle quietly. 

“Nyka, if you could?” She asked, and Nyka complied, tapping first herself and then Cynder and Tygris with her ring finger. She then went around the small room and lightly tapped the black suitcase and their weapons, smiling contently at the image she had created. 

Tygris grinned, looking at his own body excitedly before frowning, about to complain on why he now looked like a nine-year-old boy when Cynder shushed him. It took a large amount of effort for him not to burst out laughing- She looked like a pot-bellied, rich father dressed in tacky Hawaiian clothing and lugging around luggage half his size, and Nyka a typical mother carrying her ‘son’s’ three water guns. 

“Good job, it looks wonderful. Let’s go.”


End file.
